Playing Games
by NotSoHeterosexual
Summary: Moriarty is bored and decides to put Sebastian's possessiveness to good use (which means to amuse Jim, of course). [Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or Sherlock; I simply came up with a plot and wrote about it.]
1. Chapter 1

Sebastian wouldn't deny he was a selfish man. He didn't share, and he definitely did /not/ play well with others. It was a bad enough trait for a normal person, but, when combined with a personality that could only be described as "psychopathic," it could get . . . violent. And the sniper was murderous on his /good days/; this meant that, if Jim played his metaphorical cards right (and he always did, because it was /Jim/), he could push Moran to do truly awful things for entertainment's sake. Oh, and how he /loved/ when Seb got possessive.

Moriarty had been bored for the past week and a half - the only times he wasn't half-tempted to shoot himself in order to find out if the afterlife was half as mundane as reality were when Sebby agreed to play with him, but even that was beginning to lose its charm. Not that he didn't enjoy the sex. He enjoyed it /thoroughly/, but there was only so much he could take before he couldn't walk properly, and, as much as he enjoyed seeing his grunts' reactions, it didn't seem like a very good way to intimidate Sherlock. So, instead, he devised a plan, one that was overly complicated enough to entertain Moriarty for a while.

The second best thing about Sebastian (the first being something that the sandy-blond could do with his mouth), in Moriarty's eyes, was that, even though Moran wasn't anywhere near as intelligent as the consulting criminal himself, he was much smarter than ordinary people. This left Seb in the awkward situation of being keen enough to know Jim was up to something but being too simple-minded to figure out what exactly it was. It pissed Sebastian off - and the angrier he got, the more amusing Moriarty found the whole scenario.

It could have been /so simple/, but Moriarty had never been one to settle for anything less than the most ridiculous plan of action he could devise. That was why he'd reviewed his list of clients (unnecessarily, seeing as he had them memorized, including all of the meaningless little pawns he kept around for days he was starved for amusement), picked out the name of a man who'd been causing more trouble than he was worth in the past month, and told Sebastian to shadow him. He was not to engage, merely observe and report back to Jim with a list of the tall man's preferences. He'd agreed, albeit a bit reluctantly, and returned with an even deeper scowl etched into his features than the one he'd worn when he'd left.

"He's a bloody idiot, that's what he is," Sebastian informed his boss matter-of-factually. He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a hungry puff before placing it between his lips so he could seat himself on the sofa next to Jim, who was currently stretching his back in a manner that caused his shirt to rise up. Seb knew it was an attempt to make him a little less irritable, and it wasn't going to work, but it didn't stop him from admiring the glimpse of pale stomach he caught before Jim moved, twisting his hips and adjusting the way he sat on the couch so he was leaning against Sebastian's side.

Moriarty wrapped the slim digits of one hand around Sebastian's forearm. It was just muscular enough to ensure there was no chance of his fingertips touching, but he could grasp it enough to squeeze and focus Sebastian's gaze on him. He flashed a playful grin that clashed with the hard gleam in his eyes, and the snap of his teeth meeting at the end of his reply was audible. "I didn't ask for an opinion, Tiger; I need to know what he /likes/~"

Spoken lightheartedly but with a real enough threat underneath: it was one of the things that reminded Sebastian just how mentally unstable his boss was. He liked that about Jim, though. It was sexy as hell when Jim would snap - but it wouldn't be fun today, if the slight curl of the black-haired man's lip was anything to go by. Seb may have been sadistic - and, alright, a bit masochistic - but he wasn't stupid. "He seems t' have a thing for suits," he informed Moriarty, voice only faintly gruff rather than outrightly seething like before. "He drinks coffee. Very American." He shrugged, the unaffected gesture at odds with the way his lip twitched.

"Wonderful!" Moriarty crowed, audibly and visibly pleased. A hand (the one not keeping a firm grasp on Seb's forearm) went to rub Sebastian's chest, the action starting out as approval but turning into one of enjoyment rather abruptly, hand trailing lower, relishing the feeling of thinly clothed muscle. He could feel the encouraging rumble in Sebastian's gut, and it coaxed an even broader smirk onto his lips. He pressed his torso closer to Seb, his voice all but a purr as he leaned forward, nipped at Sebastian's earlobe and whispered how he was going to reward him for his good behavior.


	2. Chapter 2

Three days later and Moriarty was already tired of his game. He'd best finish what he'd been building up to now, or else he'd never do it, and that would have meant he'd wasted his time - and Jim Moriarty did /not/ waste his time. That explained why he was currently admiring himself in front of a full-length mirror, the way he visibly preened as he tugged at his cuffs making it clear he was pleased with the results. He wore one of his personally tailored suits, his tie slightly crooked because men like the one he was going to meet seemed to love fixing it for him. A dress coat was pulled on over it, the black matching the fabric of his dress pants perfectly. New dress shoes gleamed up at him, but Jim paid them no mind, too distracted by the sound of a door opening behind him. Familiar footsteps followed, and Sebastian stopped a few feet behind Jim, gazing at the mirror to meet his eyes.

Moriarty spun around on the heel of one of his shoes, stopping neatly once he faced the sandy blonde and offering a playful grin. "What do you think, Tiger?" he inquired, speaking with a childish lilt that could make a grown man piss his pants. With Sebastian, though, the look only excited the sniper, ignited something primal that Moriarty loved. He cocked his hip to one side, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. "Do I look good, hm?"

Sebastian grinned, cocking his head to the side. The look was thoroughly convincing - excluding the tightening in the corners of his eyes that made it clear he wasn't amused, because Moriarty had dressed up like this for someone else. "Great, 'course, boss," he answered in a voice husky from both admiration and possessiveness. His posture shifted ever so slightly, shoulders angling as he moved a step closer; it was almost as if the sniper was trying to trap Jim in the corner.

This was why Jim absolutely adored Sebastian: he acted so much like the animal he'd been fondly nicknamed after, using body language to say the things he didn't want to voice - couldn't voice, because Seb didn't say those kinds of things. Things like "I don't want to share you" or "He'd better not touch you" or even "Why can't I take you for a drink instead?" Sebastian was a unique man, completely different from the bloke Moriarty had chosen for his little game. While that man would see Jim's crooked tie and immediately move to fix it, Sebastian would see it and think of all the ways he could use it to tie Jim up.

Jim let out a delighted little laugh, clapped his hands together and moved forward to press a chaste kiss to Seb's jaw, the fair stubble tickling his own clean-shaven cheek. "Calm down, Sebby," he sang, the words containing just the faintest hints of sincere affection - something that was rare but most undoubtedly meaningful. "My best man's going to be shadowing me. He's an excellent shot." Jim pulled away from his sniper, eyes mischievous, and turned to walk to his door. "Ta-ta~" he threw over his shoulder playfully.

Sebastian was going to let Jim simply leave - until he noticed the snowflakes dancing in the wind outside of a window whose curtains were parted just enough to reveal a sliver of the air outside. "Jim." He spoke with a level voice; he moved towards his boss before the black-haired man had even stopped, and he reached to grab something hanging off a peg that had been nailed into a wall conveniently within reach as Moriarty turned to give Sebastian an expectant look. His lips had curled into a smirk, and that was because Sebastian was one of the few people who could be counted on to surprise Jim, and he hadn't disappointed yet.

"Yes, Tiger~?" Moriarty inquired, voice laced with falsely innocent curiosity.

Sebastian didn't answer - with words, that is (he was a strong believer in the whole "actions speak louder than words" thing). He ran the dark-colored scarf through calloused hands, folding it and then draping it loosely around Moriarty's pale neck. He could see the criminal mastermind's comment in the way the corners of Moriarty's lips twitched, threatening to broaden into a full-on grin, and his eyes lit up, and Seb spoke before anything could be said, hands expertly adjusting the scarf as he spoke. "It's snowing. You would have looked like a bloody bloke walking around in just that jacket." He spoke curtly, clipped so as to retain his vague sense of dignity.

Moriarty laughed, tipping his head back; the action made Seb's job harder, but the sniper didn't comment. The consulting criminal leaned forward once Moran was done, placing a quick kiss to the blonde's bare neck and then murmuring Sebastian's instructions for the night against the sensitive skin.


	3. Chapter 3

The club wasn't _bad_, Sebastian supposed; it just wasn't anywhere near Moriarty's standards. Moriarty only liked the absolute _best_, which was why it was always such a pain in the ass to buy the Irishman a gift. This bar was much nicer than the others in the area, sure, but it still fell short of Jim's usual establishments. Although it claimed to be the classiest in the area (which it quite possibly _was_), it was still nowhere near "classy" in Jim's eyes.

Seb almost grinned when Moriarty strutted into the wooden-floored, dimly lit building; the consulting criminal had his nose, scrunched with disgust, stuck up presumptuously in the air, not even glancing at the people who openly gawked at him. That was one thing that Moran hated about Moriarty, and it wasn't even an actual fault in the man himself. It was the fact that everyone seemed to openly appreciate Jim's appearance - not that he didn't see _why_, but it was still frustrating because Moriarty was _his_. Sebastian didn't enjoy sharing, especially when it came to his boyfriend of sorts, and the way men and women alike would undress the black-haired man made Seb's metaphorical blood boil.

'There.' Sebastian's eyes snapped to the "target," eyes raking over the man's slightly robust frame coldly. Moriarty flashed a charming grin, leaning a bit closer and no doubt singing a flirtatious greeting that the supposed "crime boss" seemed to eat up. Sebastian growled, the noise coming from low in his throat; he couldn't hear a single thing that was being said, and Moriarty had positioned both him and the other man so the sniper couldn't read their lips. Probably did it on purpose, that bloody arse.

In the bar itself, Moriarty smirked. He knew exactly what this was doing to Sebastian, and he loved every second of it. His plan couldn't have been better, either. The man who stood next to him was very obviously interested - if the way he ran his eyes up and down Moriarty's frame was anything to go by, that is. Normally, though, a single glance from Moriarty was enough to deter most people: unfortunately for the sniper, Moriarty obviously had no interest in _deterring_ the man he now leaned towards, rocking back on his heels as he did so (a tic that Seb could now predict unfailingly).

"Do you want t'get a drink?" the man inquired gruffly, voice faintly slurred with alcohol already. He had trouble keeping his eyes on Moriarty's face as he addressed the smaller, slighter man - which was probably good, seeing as a contempt sneer had flashed across his features. Sebastian grinned from where he was positioned, correctly guessing Jim had done that just to amuse him.

And here was where this entire ordeal became really difficult. "Please," Moriarty purred, the word burning his throat - and pride. Consulting criminals did not say "please"; they just took what they wanted (usually with excessive, often unnecessary, force).

The man seemed to love this. He chuckled somewhere in his rounded gut, tugging Jim along with him as he made his way to the bar with a blatant lack of finesse. He leaned up against the counter, arm tightening so Jim's hand, which had been resting just below the crook of his elbow, was wedged between the American's forearm and side. While Moriarty had still managed to retain at least the faintest hint of his usual stance, the man all but curled in on himself with the way his shoulders fell.

Sebastian clenched his teeth together, exhaled sharply through flared nostrils; the surge of possessiveness was accompanied by a realization, a realization that was almost embarrassingly obvious. This had all just been a rather clever ploy by Moriarty to get him to show his jealous side - something he had no trouble with. In fact, now that he realized this was exactly what his boss wanted, the blonde was more than willing to comply. He waited with a patience that only someone who'd waited hours to kill before could manage. He waited for the ugly American to drink a couple more beers; he waited for him to tug Jim along, lumbering along drunkenly, into the alley behind the bar.

The sights on Sebastian's rifle had only just lined up with the American's head when he slammed Jim into the wall, practically shoving his tongue down his throat. A single shot and the offending oaf was gone, falling down - blood splattered the front of Jim's clothes, speckled his pale face. Although Moriarty would have normally had his hide for doing something like that, Sebastian knew, from the grin that he flashed the sniper, he was in for something completely different.

If the smirk was anything to go by, Sebastian was going to be _rewarded_.


End file.
